


making it for real

by incognitoinsomniac



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Cold Feet, Drinking, First Dates, M/M, Neck Kissing, Second Kiss, Struggle Bus Peter Jakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitoinsomniac/pseuds/incognitoinsomniac
Summary: Peter’s asked Morse for drinks but isn’t quite sure where to go from there. His usual cool demeanor has been brought low by a pair of big blue eyes. With Morse across the table from him, he can’t find a single word to say.
Relationships: Peter Jakes/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	making it for real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guardianoffun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [guardianoffun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/pseuds/guardianoffun). Log in to view. 



> Guardianoffun, thank you so much for welcoming into such a lovely fandom. I know we discussed this fic idea forever ago, but I hope you find it a fitting follow on to your wonderful work. ^_^
> 
> Also posting as part of Fluffy February Challenge 2021 Day 9 Prompt: Date Night (better late than never).

He was nervous the whole way to the pub. They located an empty table in a dim corner with a window out to the street. Jakes immediately offered to grab the first round. He hoped the short walk to the bar and back would settle his nerves. But when he sat down, beers in hand, his heart was still racing at an awful pace. Thankfully, Morse started on about some case he'd picked up that morning.

Jakes found he couldn’t focus on what Morse was saying. His mind wasn’t for it, too caught up in overthinking where his hands should be or if his hair was still alright. But pretending to listen to Morse was easy enough. He simply watched his lips perfectly form each word. Or the dart of his brilliant blue eyes. Or the movement of his long fingers as he talked with his hands. The difficulty was in not reaching across the table and pulling him in for a kiss. He flexed then relaxed his hand to ease the sudden impulse.

Eventually, Morse asked Jakes about the case he'd been handed that morning. He had little to say on the matter. Partly, due to the fact that sitting with Morse at a pub had an unnerving effect on him where common use of the English language completely left him. His brain felt like thick molasses slowly sliding from a jar. It didn't help that he couldn't recall much about the case. He'd been too distracted by Morse throughout the day to ever truly focus on the file. Some cold case from County that had a new lead linked to Oxford so they gladly offloaded it to the Cowley desk. Beyond that he didn't know.

With little more to say about work, they devolved into idle chit chat. Neither of them cared to keep it up for long. Jakes because his mind wasn't for it, and Morse because he abhorred it. Which Jakes knew because, as he'd been finding out all day, he knew a lot more than he'd thought about his colleague. He preferred a table by the window. His brow curved just so into the bridge of his nose when he was about to make a breakthrough in a case. He didn’t take mustard on his ham sandwiches. The list went on and on.

He wondered why he’d filed it all away in his mind. He knew so much yet so little of Morse. They couldn’t even carry on a decent conversation. Jakes couldn't settle his mind on a topic. Anything he thought to say sounded idiotic or dull. He was normally so smooth with the ladies, ready with a line or an anecdote. But Morse was different than the women he'd dated in the past. Other than the obvious difference that he wasn't a woman, Morse was smart and quick witted. A cheesy line or witty quip wasn't going to win him over.

Jakes started to brood about why he even wanted to win the man over. It wasn't like he'd ever wanted men before and never someone like Morse. Maybe it would pass. Maybe it was all just residual adrenaline from the undercover work. He'd never been able to shake the visual of Morse in his lap, however. With even the slightest thought back to last night, he could feel Morse's hands on him once more, feel his curls entwined in his fingers, and his hot breath-

"Jakes?" Morse had been asking him a question.

Jakes shook his head in a poor attempt to shift the sultry thoughts from the forefront of his mind. "Sorry, been driftin'," he apologized. He hoped the dim lighting in the pub masked the furious blush spreading across his cheeks and ears.

"Noticed. Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Morse asked with a tilt of his head shifting his curls just enough to catch the light from a street lamp filtering in through the window. His brow furrowed slightly as his lips parted in question.

Jakes couldn’t stand to look at him. His heart skipped at an awful pace. He took a long sip of his beer in an effort to distract himself. It worked marginally. Wiping some errant froth on the back of his hands, he mumbled a response of sorts, "Hmm. Not in particular."

"A reason to grab a drink?" Morse offered. "We've never really been mates."

"I-" he trailed off, unable to come up with any innocuous reason that didn't sound entirely idiotic. He just wanted to spend more time with him. But he'd never say as much.

"I suppose it's somewhere to start," Morse mused. "People don't just fall into being friends. There’s always a first drink or something." He gave him a discerning look. "Just don't seem to want to be here is all. I mean you've said maybe five sentences since we sat down."

Stomach twisting in knots, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over Jakes as he realized he was messing everything up. "Morse, I," he started not entirely sure where he was going. "Thought maybe," his thought ended there. He didn't know what he thought. He'd asked him to drinks strictly on impulse. But where it went from there. "I don't know," he groaned, dragging his hand across his face.

Morse didn't know it was a date. Jakes didn't know if he even wanted a date. And the ever-present urge to reach across the table and grab him by the collar wasn’t helping him figure any of it out. "Forget it." Jakes muttered. "Forget all of it. This was a bad idea." He stood up from his seat.

"Jakes?"

He couldn't look at him as he moved away from the table. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw his face contort in confusion. A chair screeched across the wood floor behind him then Morse call out, "Jakes, wait." He refused to stop instead making a beeline for the pub door.

Jakes cursed under his breath as he pushed into the cold night. He really was making a mess of things. Acting like a complete twat. But he didn't know what else to do. So he walked briskly down the street.

But he didn’t get far before her heard the sound of footsteps hurrying behind him. "Jakes!" Morse called out.

"Just forget it, Morse," Jakes shouted back over his shoulder as he picked up his pace.

Morse doggedly kept a few steps behind him. "Did I do something wrong? Tell me. I know I rub people the wrong way sometimes, and I-and-and I don't know. I don't mean it. I want to be mates. We got off on the wrong foot in the beginning and-"

Jakes wheeled on him, "You didn't do anything! I just had it wrong! I'm just," he cut himself short. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice. It wasn't Morse's fault. None of it. He let out a hefty sigh, "Going mad. I'm sorry. Shouldn't've asked you to drinks. I-”

Morse sharply pulled him into an alcove and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Jakes held him fast and returned his kiss before resting his head against his. He needed a moment to let it all sink in. Morse had kissed him. He wasn’t going anywhere. Just leaning into him, waiting. Their warm breath intertwining in the small space between.

Jakes couldn't help but drown in those big blue eyes of his as they watch him intently. His fingers had twisted around the wool collar of Morse's jacket sometime between being pulled into the alcove and now. He shifted the material between his fingers then let the collar go.

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Jakes laced his fingers into Morse's hair, but this time with intent as he pulled him into a strong kiss. And Morse returned it readily. It was just as he remembered. No. Better. Still slow and drawn out as before, but there was a more insistent energy to it now. Jakes drank it in like nectar. He melted into his embrace. The taste of beer still on his tongue.

Morse’s hands firmly grasped his waste and drove him up against the alcove wall. Jakes gasped at the contrast of cool brick across his back and Morse’s fingers like fire running up his shirt and spreading across his chest. His other hand shifted across the small of his back, pulling him closer to him.

Morse dragged a rough kiss across his jaw. His hand flicked up to his collar, pulled his tie loose then a couple shirt buttons. There was a brief moment where the cold prickled his newly exposed skin before Morse was dragging teeth across him, suckling at the nape of his neck. "Christ, Morse," Jakes let out a loud breathy gasp. 

When Morse pulled away to chuckle, Jakes suspected he knew exactly the effect he had over him. There was that sly grin again but now lined with brilliantly red bruised lips. His big blue eyes danced mischievously, "That what you were thinking?"

“Not exactly. Everything I thought paled in comparison,” he admitted a tad short of breath, letting his head rest against the cool brick of the alcove wall.

Morse chuckled sheepishly and blushed.

The chill of the evening cut into him where his jacket lay open. He shivered. Instead of closing his coat, he pulled Morse to him. "Christ, it's cold out tonight."

Morse raised an eyebrow. Then said with a nod, “Got a bottle of scotch at mine. Just a few blocks.”

His heart leapt in his chest at the thought, nerves rattling through him. But before he could think on it further he heard himself say, “Lead the way.”


End file.
